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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29169036">Better</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueSyrup7/pseuds/BlueSyrup7'>BlueSyrup7</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Getting Together, High School AU, High School Musical AU, Honestly it was really only slightly inspired by HSM, How Do I Tag, Jaemin has pink hair because that was superior, Jaemin is getting there too, Lee Jeno is Whipped, M/M, Swearing, The plot isn't that similar, but he isn't happy about it, but hey, but only kinda, fair warning the plot is kinda contrived, that's where the HSM inspiration comes in, this is my first work so please be gentle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:40:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,765</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29169036</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueSyrup7/pseuds/BlueSyrup7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Okay, so you want my help choreographing a routine?” </p><p>“Yes. It needs to be good and I can’t do it myself.”</p><p> </p><p>  <i>It needs to be good.<i> That’s an understatement. Their routine will need to be better than good. </i></i></p><p> </p><p>  <i><br/><i>If they want to beat Na Jaemin in a dance contest, their routine will have to be fucking spectacular. </i><br/></i></p><p> </p><p>  <i><br/><i>~~~</i><br/></i></p><p> </p><p>  <i><br/><i>In which Jaemin has been dancing since he could walk, Jisung just wants to learn something, Donghyuck is too stressed for his own good, and Jeno needs a break.</i></i><br/></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! This is my first time writing fan fiction and I'd really appreciate any pointers you might have. I know this chapter isn't the best but the story picks up from here. Thanks for taking the time to read it! </p><p>Side note: damn, writing a summary is way harder than I thought it'd be.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Na Jaemin is many things. He is a big brother, a lover of pink, and the owner of admittedly too many shoes. He is a bad driver, a good student, and an excellent shit-talker. But most of all, Na Jaemin is a dancer. </p>
<p>He’s been dancing since he can remember. Since he could walk, probably. His mom had put him in dance lessons when he was young and he’d taken to it immediately. Mrs. Na had been a dancer herself, once, but retired due to an injury. Jaemin is half-convinced she had him just so she could live vicariously through him, but he doesn’t mind. He loves to dance. Always has and always will.</p>
<p>Jaemin’s little brother, Donghyuck, is much the same. He’d been thrust into ballet when he was little and picked it up quickly. Donghyuck strayed from dance as he got older, though he hadn’t strayed far. Donghyuck’s passions lay in singing and you can tell it anytime the boy opens his mouth. But he is still a talented dancer, and as such often lands the lead in any musicals their school puts on. Including the one which he’s currently agonizing over the script of. </p>
<p>“You don’t get it, Jaemin,” Donghyuck groans for the third time, rolling onto his back. They’re both lounging on Jaemin’s bed, though Jaemin is tempted to push Donghyuck onto the floor. Especially if he whines at him one more time. “My character’s motivations don’t make any sense to me, but I have to understand them by rehearsals next week. This is my most important role yet.”</p>
<p>“You say that every time,” Jaemin says as he swipes the script from his brother. Donghyuck yelps, reaching for the papers, but Jaemin holds him to the mattress with his legs. “What don’t you get about the character, anyway?” Jaemin flips through the script, scanning the words. “He seems pretty straightforward to me.”</p>
<p>“You <i>would<i> say that.”</i></i></p>
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<p>“What’s that supposed to mean, you brat?” Jaemin tosses the pile of papers back at Donghyuck, jokingly jabbing him in the side. Donghyuck huffs as he sits up, gathering the papers in the correct order. </p>
<p>“You don’t understand anything nuanced, Min. It's not a bad thing, per se… it just isn’t very helpful to me.”</p>
<p>“If I’m so unhelpful, then stop complaining to me.” Jaemin shoves at his brother’s shoulder lightly, prompting Donghyuck to rise from the bed. “I have stuff to do anyway.”</p>
<p>“Sure,” Donghyuck jeers with a smile. He skips to the door. “I also have totally real stuff to do. Goodnight.”</p>
<p>“Night, brat. Tell Yukhei not to use all the milk tomorrow morning.” </p>
<p>Donghyuck nods before closing the door. Jaemin lays back on his bed, sighing at his ceiling. He really wasn’t lying about having stuff to do; his math homework waits in his backpack and his history essay still needs writing. But having things to do and <i>wanting<i> to do those things are completely different. Those assignments aren’t due until the end of the week anyway, he reasons as he wriggles his way under the covers. Plus, it's already late and he needs his beauty sleep if he doesn’t want to look like a sentient potato sack tomorrow. And since Na Jaemin refuses to look anything less than great, a potato sack won’t cut it. He falls asleep quickly, wrapped in his duvet and snuggling his stuffed dog. </i></i></p><p>
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<p>~~~</p>
<p>He looks great the next morning, as he always does. He combs his hair into submission, making sure every pink strand is perfectly in place while also looking like he didn’t try to make it look that way. Styling his hair is an art, as far as Jaemin is concerned.</p>
<p>(Donghyuck had laughed at him the first time he said that, but Jaemin had caught him putting just as much effort into his own hair the next morning.)</p>
<p>Jaemin finishes getting ready and heads downstairs to the kitchen. Despite his earlier request, Jaemin finds that Yukhei did use the rest of the milk. And he put it back in the fridge, that heathen. Jaemin sighs as he throws the carton away. He loves his cousin, truly he does, but he hates when the older boy visits. Their food vanishes, the usually quiet house is suddenly noisy, and the guest room is a mess by the time Yukhei leaves. </p>
<p>“Hey, Nana.” Jaemin is jolted out of his annoyance by Yukhei’s warm voice and he turns to see his cousin’s smiling face popping up from the couch. Yukhei’s smile is, as always, infectious, and Jaemin returns it easily. </p>
<p>“Hey. Can you pick up some milk while Hyuck and I are at school?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, no problem. Just text me so I’ll remember.” And with that, his cousin’s head turns back to the tv, attention no longer on Jaemin. That’s fine, though, because soon after, Donghyuck comes traipsing down the stairs, looking put together if not for his expression. The boy looks troubled, but Jaemin doesn’t ask why. He’s sure his little brother will bring it up on the drive to school. </p>
<p>And within five minutes of starting down the road, he does. </p>
<p>“I still don’t get why he kills her in the end, Jaemin! And it’s driving me insane!” </p>
<p>“Just ask your teacher today. He should know. He did pick the play, after all.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I guess. It just bothers me that I can’t figure it out myself. I’m playing the guy, why can’t I figure out why he kills his wife? They seem happy; I don’t get it.”</p>
<p>Jaemin shrugs as they come to a stoplight. “I don’t know, Hyuck. But your teacher will. Stop agonizing over it and ask him.”</p>
<p>Donghyuck groans and Jaemin can tell he’ll worry himself over it all day if he doesn’t offer an immediate solution. So, an immediate solution he offers.</p>
<p> “Hey, why don’t you come with me to ask him when we get to school? I have to ask him a question anyway, and this way you won’t have to wait until his class.” </p>
<p>Jaemin does not have anything to ask Donghyuck’s teacher. But Donghyuck perks up as soon as the offer leaves his mouth, so Jaemin doesn’t bother correcting himself. </p>
<p>“Are you asking him about the dance part? I’m sure you’ll get it. You may not even have to audition since he’s seen your recitals,” Donghyuck lilts, poking Jaemin’s shoulder.</p>
<p>Dance part? </p>
<p>“Uh- yeah, I just wanted to ask anyway. Ya’know. Just in case.”</p>
<p>Donghyuck hums and they don’t bring it up again until Jaemin has pulled into the school parking lot and gotten out of the car. Donghyuck fidgets with his seatbelt, cursing under his breath. When he finally escapes the car, Donghyuck closes the door a little rougher than Jaemin would prefer but he doesn’t say anything. </p>
<p>“I actually don’t think he’s even mentioned the dance thing to anyone but the cast yet,” Donghyuck says as they walk through the courtyard of their school. “How’d you hear about it?”</p>
<p>“Hmm? Oh, I-” Jaemin pauses for a moment, but not long enough for Donghyuck to register that he's pulling an excuse out of his ass. “You told me about it.”</p>
<p>“I did?” </p>
<p>Jaemin nods.</p>
<p>“Guess I forgot.” And he mercifully drops the subject again. </p>
<p>The hallways are crowded as they make their way to the drama teacher’s room. Jaemin weaves expertly through the people, making it to the room before his brother, who knocks into some poor kid’s shoulder roughly. Donghyuck apologizes profusely but the boy seems unbothered, smiling lightly and waving him off. Donghyuck reaches Jaemin a moment later, ears red. Jaemin files that away in his teasing banks for later. For now, he smiles tauntingly at Donghyuck, who promptly shoves him into the classroom. </p>
<p>Mr. Byun is sitting on his desk, flipping through some papers far too rapidly to be actually reading any of their contents. He jolts when Donghyuck clears his throat before breaking into a smile. </p>
<p>“Donghyuck! What brings you here so early? Class isn’t for another,” Byun makes a show of checking his watch. “Six hours! Did you have a question?”</p>
<p>“Yes. I don’t understand-”</p>
<p>Jaemin tunes out of the conversation, uninterested in why Donghyuck’s character kills his wife. He’ll find out when he watches the musical, which he knows he’ll do at least twice. Donghyuck always makes him come to every show. He picks at his nails until he feels eyes on him, and when he looks up he sees both Byun and Donghyuck looking at him. </p>
<p>“This is my brother, Jaemin. He’s the captain of the dance team here.”</p>
<p>Byun claps, smiling broadly. “Yes, I’ve seen a few of your recitals,” he addresses Jaemin. “You’re very talented.”</p>
<p>Jaemin knows this, of course, but he still flushes slightly at the praise. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>Byun hums. Donghyuck continues, “He came to ask about the backup dancers.”</p>
<p>“Right. Well.” Byun turns to his desk, grabbing a few papers. Jaemin isn’t sure how he knows which are the right ones because the surface of the desk is a mess, covered in stray sheets and pencils with the occasional wrapper thrown in for good measure. Byun whirls around again, passing one of the papers to Jaemin. “This production is the largest our school has done since I was a student here. Our theater program is large enough to support it, but I’m afraid we’re lacking in students to perform the most important number. It’s this big prison break scene, with all the prisoners dancing and singing, and we simply don’t have enough kids to fill the stage.</p>
<p>“Not only that, but in the middle of the number there’s this great dance break- one that’s a bit advanced for most of our cast. And I’d like to stick as close to the original production as possible, so it would be great to have the dance team lead that part.”</p>
<p>Jaemin nods along to Byun’s explanation, feeling himself gradually become more excited. A chance to dance on stage with a large number of people? That sounds like a dream. The dance team’s recitals are great, but there are only ten people on the team. Routines the scale of the one Byun had described just aren’t possible. </p>
<p>“Oh, one last thing,” Byun says with a grin. “There’s a very short solo part in the dance break. Nothing too crazy, just a few moves before everyone joins in again. If you think you’d be up to that, I’d love to have you on board.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, of course,” Jaemin says without needing to think about it. Byun claps again and says he needs to finalize some things before ushering them out of the room. </p>
<p>“If you have any other questions, they should be answered on that paper.” Byun gestures to the sheet in Jaemin’s hands. “Have a good day, boys. I’ll see you in class, Donghyuck.”</p>
<p>And then they’re in the hallway again. Jaemin folds the sheet and shoves it in his backpack pocket for safekeeping. He turns to Donghyuck. “Feel any better about your character?”</p>
<p>“Yep,” Donghyuck chips, popping the ‘p’. </p>
<p>“Good. I gotta go to class now, but I’ll see you at lunch?”</p>
<p>“Always.”</p>
<p>Jaemin ruffles Donghyuck’s hair despite his complaints and darts down the hallway before his brother can do anything about it. Donghyuck’s indigent shouts follow him, and Jaemin smiles, feeling his excitement build again. This dance break and solo is going to be the highlight of this semester, he can feel it. And he can’t wait to get started. </p>
<p>~~~</p>
<p>The rest of the day goes about the same as any other; Jaemin and Donghyuck eat lunch together at their usual table and talk about their classes (Jaemin’s are boring and Donghyuck mentions a cute boy that transferred into his French class). They get home a few hours later and watch a movie with Yukhei before retiring to their rooms for the night. Standard. Boring. Routine. </p>
<p>It’s not until a few days later that something of note happens. </p>
<p>It’s the middle of the day, right before lunch. Jaemin is on his way to the cafeteria, preparing himself for another session of Donghyuck’s ranting- probably about French Class Boy (Donghyuck refuses to provide a name, so Jaemin came up with one of his own)- when he’s pulled aside by Mr. Byun. </p>
<p>“Jaemin,” Byun says lightly, though Jaemin can see a crease between his eyebrows. “Have you told the dance team about the musical yet?” </p>
<p>“Not yet,” Jaemin responds after a moment of hesitation. He’d been planning to tell them yesterday but something came up with two of the members and the team didn’t end up meeting. “But I’ll do it the next time I see them, I swear.”</p>
<p>“Ah, about that.” Byun needlessly adjusts his glasses. “Maybe don’t tell them just yet.”</p>
<p>Jaemin blanks for a moment before recovering. “I’m sorry?”</p>
<p>“About the solo, I mean. Feel free to mention the rest of it, because we still need your help.”</p>
<p>Jaemin must make a face because Byun suddenly looks both amused and awkward. </p>
<p>“I saw someone who I think might be slightly better suited to the solo. I just wanted to make sure you knew before, well. Before rehearsals begin, I guess.”</p>
<p>“Better suited?” Who could possibly be better suited to a solo part than the <i>captain of the dance team?<i> Jaemin holds back a pout. “Who?”</i></i></p>
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<p>Byun shrugs like it doesn’t matter, even though it <i>very much does.<i></i></i></p>
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<p>“Park Jisung. He’s very smooth in his movements but somehow sharp at the same time. I just think he’d be a better fit. I’m sorry, Jaemin.”</p>
<p>Jaemin can be smooth and sharp in his movements. He knows he can. He just needs Byun to know it, too. </p>
<p>“Is there any way you can change your mind? I’ve been dancing since I could walk; I can match any style you want. Just give me a routine and I can prove it.” </p>
<p>Byun seems to consider this, tilting his head like a confused dog. Jaemin waits as the teacher hums to himself, disappointment and a small bit of hope flooding his system. </p>
<p>Finally, Byun pats Jaemin on the shoulder. “I suppose you two could do a competition to see who is better suited. Come up with a routine to showcase your strengths and I’ll have Jisung do the same. I don’t see why you care so much, though, since it’s only a small solo.” </p>
<p>Jaemin <i>wouldn’t<i> care so much if Byun would stop using words like ‘better suited’ and ‘better fit’. In regards to dance, no one is a ‘better’ anything than Jaemin. At least not at this high school. </i></i></p>
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<p>And he’s going to prove it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for the support, it means a lot! I haven't fully mastered AO3 yet, and italicizing in particular is giving me some problems, but I'll do my best to figure it out and edit this chapter to italicize the words that were meant to be. </p><p>Anyway, we finally meet Jeno and Jisung! This chapter begins a few weeks before the last one to show Jeno's POV.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lee Jeno does a lot of things. He plays basketball, drives aimlessly for fun whenever he can borrow a car, and cooks most of his family’s meals. Lee Jeno doesn’t, however, dance. </p><p>At least not anymore. </p><p>He doesn’t have anything against it. Never will. Dancing used to be a huge part of his life, after all. He spent years in a studio, practicing late hours and coming up with routines just for the hell of it. But eventually, as he does with most things, Jeno grew out of dance. He migrated from a dance studio to a basketball court, just to relieve some of that pent up energy. His athletic ability lends itself nicely to sports, and as such, he found he was exceptional at basketball. </p><p>So Jeno doesn’t dance anymore, but it isn’t like he’d turn someone down if they asked him to. </p><p>Which just so happens to be happening right now. </p><p>Jisung fiddles with his sleeve, obviously nervous. His fingers find a rhythm as they pull at his shirt: tug, tug, release; tug, tug, release. His breathing follows a similar pattern. There is melody and rhythm in everything Jisung does and Jeno doesn’t see any reason to not help him harness that, so he says, “Yeah, of course, I’ll help you.”</p><p>Jisung jolts and his fingers release his sleeve earlier in the pattern than they’re meant to. Jeno smiles at his friend’s anxious nature. </p><p>“Really?” Jisung asks quietly. It’s almost hard to hear him over the din of the cafeteria. Their table is especially loud, with Mark laughing like he’s just heard the funniest joke in the universe and YangYang chewing louder than should be humanly possible while Renjun growls at both of them to shut up. Jeno leans closer to Jisung so he doesn’t have to raise his voice and risk Renjun’s wrath being turned on him. </p><p>“Yeah. Just tell me a time and place and I’ll help you,” Jeno assures with a pat on Jisung’s head. The younger leans into it. “I’m looking forward to teaching you.”</p><p>And he is. It’s been a long time since Jeno has taken the time to dance, so when Jisung had asked him for help it was a no-brainer for Jeno to agree. That and the obvious skill Jisung possesses for it. Teaching him to dance should be a breeze. </p><p>~~~</p><p>Teaching Jisung to dance is decidedly <i>not<i> a breeze. The boy keeps tripping over himself and glancing around like he’s afraid of anyone seeing him. After the third time of Jisung nearly landing on his face in the grass, Jeno stops him with a hand on his shoulder. </i></i></p><p>
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    <i>“Let’s take a break, yeah?” </i>
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    <i>Jisung nods easily and makes for his water bottle. He moves so easily now that he’s not embarrassed of someone watching him. He’s the same on the basketball court, Jeno muses. Whenever they’re playing a game, Jisung usually warms the bench. But in practice the kid is practically the best player they have, zipping around and scoring before anyone can so much as turn to see him. He’d be lavished with praise if anyone outside the team could see him play, but his stage fright keeps Jisung from reaching his full potential. </i>
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    <i>Jeno should’ve known that would be a problem when dancing, too. </i>
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    <i>“Hey, Jisung,” Jeno calls, watching as the boy in question startles. He sighs. Another thing they need to work on. “Come here for a second.”</i>
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    <i>Jisung is next to him when Jeno blinks. The kid really is fast. </i>
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    <i>“Why’d you pick this place to practice?” Jeno asks, beckoning for Jisung to sit next to him on the ground. Jisung obliges, sliding gracefully onto the grass. He shrugs. </i>
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    <i>“I don’t know, it seemed most convenient for both of us.”</i>
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    <i>And while the school courtyard <i>would<i> be a convenient spot to practice - in theory - if they can’t get anything done because Jisung is too worried about being spotted by a random passerby, the location loses any upsides it may have had. So Jeno tells Jisung as much. </i></i></i>
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        <i>“Oh,” Jisung says, drooping slightly. </i>
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        <i>“It’s fine, Jisung. Next time we’ll choose a more secluded spot. We can try here again when you’re more confident.”</i>
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        <i>“Next time?” Jisung mumbles. Then he brightens. “You mean you’ll still teach me?”</i>
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        <i>Jeno holds back a laugh at his friend’s surprised expression. “Of course. You think I’d ditch you because you’re embarrassed of being seen? Don’t answer that,” he adds when Jisung opens his mouth to reply. “What I mean is, I’m not going to make fun of you or leave because you have stage fright. It makes teaching a little harder, but I like a good challenge.”</i>
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        <i>Jisung nods and they exchange a few more words before deciding to call it a day. Not the most productive first practice, but Jeno is sure the next one will be better since they agreed to meet at Jisung’s house. </i>
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        <i>Jeno is proven right a few days later. Jisung is more comfortable on home turf, where he knows no one will see him, and his movements show it. He’s fluid and graceful, only missing a few steps in the routine Jeno showed him. He’s a fast learner too. Jeno reckons within a month Jisung will be a better dancer than he is. </i>
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        <i>They keep up practice, Jisung steadily improving while Jeno regains some of the passion for dance he lost in middle school. Every few days Jeno will come over to Jisung’s house and they’ll practice for a few hours, and usually the day will end with Jeno staying for dinner. Jisung’s family is insanely supportive and his mom reminds Jeno a lot of his own so it’s never hard to say yes when they offer him a meal. A few weeks into this arrangement, Jisung is quieter than normal during dinner. Not that he talks much anyway, but Jeno is able to notice a difference, however subtle it may be. </i>
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        <i>“Jisung,” Jeno starts when they’ve moved outside to say goodnight. Jisung perks up at his name, no longer startled at Jeno’s voice. They’d been working on that the past few weeks and Jeno smiles as he sees that it’s paid off. “Was something bothering you today?”</i>
      </i>
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</p><p>
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        <i>“Hmm? Oh, you noticed that?”</i>
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        <i>Jeno nods and Jisung takes it as a sign to continue. </i>
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    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Nothing is really bothering me… it’s just- I think maybe I’m ready to practice in public.” Jisung doesn’t meet Jeno’s eyes as he proposes the idea. “I’ve performed for my family a few times and it wasn’t as scary as I thought it’d be.”</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Jeno is glad that Jisung wants to push himself, but performing in front of family and learning out in public are two different things. He exhales softly. “Where did you have in mind?”</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“The school courtyard? I don’t really wanna jump into the deep end to begin with, ya’ know?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Jeno claps, making Jisung jump. “I’m so glad we agree! I was worried for a second there. Okay, so the school courtyard?”</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Yes, I think that’s a good place to start.”</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Cool. We can meet in the morning so there are fewer people. Baby steps.”</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Jisung hums, a small smile gracing his face as they agree on a date and time. Jeno returns the smile and they part with a side-hug. Jeno begins his walk to the bus stop, thinking over a routine in his head. He’d like Jisung to practice something new in the courtyard, but not something daunting. The boy is just beginning, after all.  </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>They meet in the courtyard at five in the morning a few days later, bleary-eyed and cold. Well, Jeno is bleary-eyed and cold. Jisung is bundled in the world’s largest coat and sipping a coffee. Smart kid. They’d agreed to meet this early to avoid any people, but the weather is steadily making Jeno regret that decision. Jisung remains unbothered, watching excitedly as Jeno runs through the routine they’ll be doing for the next week. His movements are a little stiffer than he’d like and he knows he’s grimacing when he should be smiling, but Jeno can forgive himself for that just this once and blame the chilly morning air. Luckily, as the sun rises higher so does the temperature and Jisung can shed his coat when his turn rolls around. He dances the moves he remembers and Jeno provides the one he doesn’t, and soon they’re working as they normally do. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Jisung finishes a particularly smooth run-through of the choreography and Jeno claps softly. Jisung’s face flushes. Huh. That’s odd. Jeno often claps when Jisung does well and not once has he blushed. Jeno is about to blame this on the weather, as well, when he hears a voice behind him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Wow!”  </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Jeno and Jisung both startle, and Jeno’s head whips around to see who’d been watching them. Jisung is already staring at the offending person, face steadily getting redder than what can be attributed to the barely-there cold. The person is smiling widely and Jeno realizes as the man gets closer that he’s seen him before. He can’t place where until Jisung stammers out what must be the man’s name. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“M-Mr. Byun!” Jisung says, probably too quiet for Byun to hear. Jeno immediately recognizes the name, realizing the man is a teacher at their school. YangYang often won’t shut up about him at lunch, anytime Byun does something particularly odd in class.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I’m glad you already know who I am,” Byun addresses Jisung, completely ignoring Jeno’s presence. He would be offended if he wasn’t so focused on being worried for Jisung. The first time he’s ever really practiced in a public place and he’s spotted by their school’s drama teacher? The boy must be freaking out. Jeno doesn’t have stage fright, but even <i>he’d<i> be freaking out if he was in his friend’s situation. </i></i></i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>Jisung, however, is very still. Almost deceptively so. His face is redder than Jeno thinks should be humanly possible, but other than that he’s the picture of calmness. He doesn’t speak or move as Byun goes on about something - something about dancing on a <i>stage<i> if Jeno is hearing correctly - and Jeno thinks maybe his friend has gone into shock. Or maybe his instincts are directly him to stay inhumanly still as to not alert the predator of his presence. Either way, Jeno is worried. </i></i></i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“So, what do you think?” Byun finishes, still not acknowledging Jeno in the slightest. Maybe Byun really just doesn’t realize he’s here. Jeno turns his attention back to Jisung. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“I-” Jisung breaks himself off, clearing his throat. His eyes flick to Jeno’s and Jeno can practically hear the unsaid “help me.” He just shrugs. Jisung looks ready to glare daggers at him before seeming to remember that a teacher is staring at him expectantly. “Uhm. Sure?”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Sure? </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Did Jisung just agree to dance on a stage, in front of people? Jeno shakes his head. No, surely not. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“Great!” Byun claps, very loudly, next to Jeno’s ear, making him jump higher than he’d like to admit. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you there,” Byun adds quickly as he turns to Jeno, who is now trying very hard to not curse as he rubs the side of his head. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>It seems as if Jisung has, in fact, just agreed to dance on a stage, in front of people. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>And Jisung seems to be in just as much disbelief about it as Jeno is. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Byun asks Jisung’s name and goes over the offer again, probably just laying out to Jisung what it is he just signed up for. Jisung stares somewhere over the teacher’s shoulder, eyes alight with fear and a bit of shock. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Finally, Byun finishes with a mumbled, “I’ll have to tell Jaemin,” and then he’s gone. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Jaemin? Captain of the dance team, Jaemin? Been dancing since he was like three, Jaemin? Jeno’s crush of almost two years, Jaemin?</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>That Jaemin? </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“Jisung,” Jeno starts, but Jisung is already turning to him, talking too fast for Jeno to comprehend what he’s saying. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“What did I just do?” Jeno catches in between the jumbles of words falling out of Jisung’s mouth. <i>“What did I just do?”<i></i></i></i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>“You just agreed to dance in a play, I think.” <i>And took that opportunity from the best dancer in the whole school,<i> Jeno doesn’t add. At least that’s what he assumes happened, from Byun’s mumbles. “Why, exactly, did you agree to that?”</i></i></i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>“He just looked so eager and happy. I couldn’t tell him no,” Jisung’s deep voice gets higher as he continues to speak, eventually tapering off in a squeak. “What do I do now?”</i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>“Find him and resend the offer, I guess. Unless you actually wanna do it.” Jeno laughs nervously as thinks of Jisung on stage. </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>“I don’t. But-” Jisung pulls on his hair. “But I kinda do at the same time.” </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>Jeno doesn’t say anything. Jisung continues to fill the silence. </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>“It’s not like I could tell him no anyway, right? Not if I have to see his disappointment. <i>God,<i> he would be so sad and disappointed in me. No, I can’t. I can’t. And dancing in front of people can’t be <i>that<i> hard, right? I mean, I’ve done it in front of my family and I do it in front of you all the time. Maybe strangers won’t be different? It sounds kinda fun. But kinda scary, too. Ugh, Jeno help me.”</i></i></i></i></i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>And Jeno wants to say, “Go up to Byun and tell him no. It doesn’t matter if he’s disappointed in you, your comfort comes first.” </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>But does he say that? No. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>Instead, he says, “I think you should do it, Jisung.”</i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>And Jisung breathes again, and nods, and grabs his backpack. And then he marches into the school like it’s a damn battleground, leaving Jeno to mull over why the hell he just said that. Because he doesn’t think Jisung should do it. Not even a little. The poor boy would be petrified up there. But it could also be a learning experience. And hey, Jisung has gotten a lot better. He even proposed that they practice here himself! That’s got to count for something, right? And he did just say he wanted to do it. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>Ugh. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>Jeno is cold and tired, and overthinking this.</i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>He needs some coffee. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>~~~</i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>Jisung is a ball of nerves the rest of the day. He practically buzzes in his seat at lunch, so much so that the other (usually oblivious) boys take notice and address him with more concern than normal. Renjun gives Jisung some of his food, YangYang tells as many jokes as he can think of, and Mark pats Jisung on the head more times than Jeno can count. It’s odd, but it obviously comforts the boy, so Jeno doesn’t make any move to stop them. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>Jeno doesn’t fare much better than Jisung but the only one that seems to notice is Renjun, and even then he doesn’t get any extra food. But it’s fine. Jeno is too nervous to eat, anyway. All he can picture is Jisung freezing on stage and the whole school laughing at him (even though he knows it would take a miracle for the entire student body to show up to a school play). Guilt eats away at him anytime he looks at Jisung but he can’t find it in him to tell the boy not to do it. Because for all the nerves that are obviously dancing along Jisung’s skin, there’s something else, too: excitement. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>Jisung might be buzzing in his seat but his eyes are bright with anticipation. Jeno can’t be the one to take that away from him. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>He realizes he might not have to be when Jaemin enters the cafeteria, eyes hard. His face is stony and Jeno can practically feel a cold shiver wrack his body as Jaemin slides into the seat next to his brother, Donghyuck. Jaemin says something to the other boy, who shrugs and continues eating his sandwich. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>Jaemin remains in his seemingly bad mood for the rest of lunch but Jeno can’t help but watch him anyway. Not just because he’s scared for Jisung, but also because Jaemin has always had this magnetic draw that pulls Jeno in. Something that makes Jeno orbit him like a planet to the sun. It’s… scary, in a way, and it’s always been inconvenient. Jeno remembers the first (and one of the only) times Jaemin showed up to one of the school’s basketball games, probably dragged there by Donghyuck. Jeno had been playing like he normally does, which is pretty damn good if he says so himself, when he accidentally locked eyes with Jaemin. It was only a second until Jaemin looked away, and Jeno is sure Jaemin doesn’t even remember, but their team lost that game because Jeno couldn’t snap himself out of it for the remaining quarter. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>So yeah. It’s inconvenient, this crush of his. For more reasons than one, now. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
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                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>He’s zoned out for the rest of the day, floating through his classes and nearly bumping into several people on his way out the door of the school. One of those people happens to be Jisung, who tugs him aside and explains something in a nervous voice that goes right over Jeno’s head. </i>
                              </i>
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                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>“Sorry, could you repeat that?” Jeno requests, watching as Jisung’s face shifts from “help me” to “what’s with you”. He deftly ignores the change. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
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                              <i>
                                <i>“I said, Byun told me I have competition for the dance thing and I know this is super stupid of me but I still want to try, and can you help me? I totally understand if you don’t want to, you already do so much for me and I really don’t want to be a bother, so actually, nevermind, I’ll just do it myself-”</i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
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                    </i>
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                </i>
              </i>
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  <i>
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                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>“Jisung, woah, slow down. I’ll help you, of course, I will. And you aren’t a bother.” Jeno puts his hands on Jisung’s shoulders and the younger boy softens a little, releasing the tension in his muscles. “What do you need my help with?”</i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
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  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
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                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>“Byun said that both me and the guy I’m competing against need to come up with a routine and whoever’s is better gets the part.”</i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
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                </i>
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            </i>
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  <i>
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                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>Jeno is willing to bet that there’s more to it than that, but he doesn’t question it. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
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  <i>
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                  <i>
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                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>“Okay, so you want my help choreographing a routine?” </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
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                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>“Yes. It needs to be good and I can’t do it myself.”</i>
                              </i>
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                                <i>
                                  <i>It needs to be good.<i> That’s an understatement. If Jeno is right about who Jisung’s competition is, their routine will need to be better than good. </i></i>
                                </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
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                                  <i>
                                    <i>If they want to beat Na Jaemin in what is essentially a dance contest, their routine will have to be fucking spectacular.</i>
                                  </i>
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</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So this chapter is longer than the other two combined (whoops) but the next chapter will be shorter. Unfortunately, I can't consistently write chapters this long. </p><p>I still can't seem to get italics to work more than twice per chapter &gt;:( </p><p>If anyone could help with that I would greatly appreciate it. Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Why are you being so bitchy today,” Donghyuck whines at Jaemin as he pours himself a bowl of cereal. “You were mean at lunch and now I have to have cheerios ‘cause you won't cook.”</p><p>Jaemin sighs into his own bowl of cereal. “Sorry, Hyuck. It’s something about that dance solo for your musical. Byun said he found someone who he thinks is better for it, so now I have to compete for the part.”</p><p>“Better? Than you?”</p><p>“That’s what I said!” Jaemin exclaims- a bit too loudly, it seems, because Yukhei pauses his movie to join them in the kitchen. </p><p>“What’s happening?” Yukhei asks as he leans on the counter. Jaemin really doesn’t feel like getting into the whole thing so he looks at Donghyuck, who sighs dramatically but explains anyway. </p><p>“So basically Jaemin is stressed and mad, and we have to deal with it,” Donghyuck finishes a minute later, mock-glaring at his brother. Jaemin chucks a spoonful of cheerios at him and Donghyuck screeches. Yukhei ignores their antics, humming thoughtfully. </p><p>“Why don’t you just try to relieve your stress, take some of it off your shoulders.” Their cousin says matter-of-factly. So matter-of-factly that it makes Jaemin pause for a moment until he remembers why he isn’t doing that in the first place. </p><p>“Because I deal with stress by dancing, and now anytime I try that it’ll just remind me that someone thinks I’m inferior until I prove them wrong,” Jaemin groans, tempted to shove his face into his bowl. Donghyuck looks as if he might do it for him, if Jaemin doesn’t. </p><p>Then he snaps his fingers, and both Jaemin and Yukhei look at him curiously.</p><p>“Oh! I know. My friend is having a party this weekend, why don’t you come? I was just gonna have you drive me, but if it’ll make you less of a snipey brat then you should stay for a while, maybe drink that edge off.” </p><p>Jaemin wants to slap him and hug him at the same time. He does neither. </p><p>“A party, huh? That doesn’t sound so bad.” Jaemin turns to Yukhei. “If we’re not home by midnight you can come get us, ‘cause I’m gonna do everything in my power to get drunk off my ass but I don’t really feel like wrecking my car.” </p><p>“Gotcha,” Yukhei says over his shoulder as he heads back to the living room.</p><p>Suddenly Jaemin doesn’t feel so bad about this whole dance competition thing. All he needs is a night to let loose and he’ll be on his A-game. And no one can beat Jaemin when he’s on his A-game. </p><p>~~~</p><p>Two days later and they’re pulling up to a house that Jaemin has seen countless times, but never been inside. He drops Donghyuck off here about twice a month to hang out with Kunhang, but there’s never been a reason to go further than the front door, and even that is only done if he’s helping his brother carry something. </p><p>Donghyuck hops out of the car, maneuvering easily around the people littering the front yard of his friend’s house. Funny how he can do that but not make it through a hallway without bumping into someone, Jaemin muses.</p><p>The inside of Kunhang’s house is probably nice when it isn’t being ravaged by drunk teenagers. Jaemin and Donghyuck had gotten here about an hour in, and while Jaemin had expected people to be tipsy by now, he wasn’t expecting anyone to be sliding-down-the-stair-railing-naked levels of drunk. </p><p>But here he is, watching someone slide down the stair railing, decidedly naked and decidedly drunk. </p><p>That’s who he aspires to be tonight, he decides. So off he goes to the kitchen, needing some kind of alcohol in him asap. Preferably something that doesn’t taste like piss, but hey, he’s not picky. The kitchen is less crowded than the yard and the living room, but still has a fair amount of people. Teenagers mill around the room aimlessly and Jaemin takes a moment to survey the few people staying put; a couple is making out against the fridge, a girl is messing with the punch (which Jaemin decides right then is not something he will be having) and a boy with floppy hair is sitting on top of one of the counters holding a beer and playing with his phone. </p><p>Jaemin chooses the lesser of the three evils and sidles up to the boy, tapping him on the shoulder. The boy looks up, eyes widening almost comically when he sees Jaemin. Jaemin smothers a laugh. </p><p>“Hey, where can I get one of those,” he points to the beer in the boy’s hand, which, now that he’s closer, he can see is not even opened. The boy shrugs and hands him the beer. </p><p>“I wasn’t gonna drink it, anyway,” the boy says when Jaemin opens his mouth to refuse the bottle. “Just got it to get some guy off my back.” </p><p>Oh, so he’s one of those. </p><p>“So you didn’t come here to drink?” Jaemin purrs, lifting himself onto the counter next to the boy. Said boy shakes his head. “What’d you come for, then?”</p><p>“Friend of a friend is hosting it, so I got dragged along with the group.” The boy looks at Jaemin out of the corner of his eye. “Thought maybe I could make a new friend or something.”</p><p>Really now? </p><p>“Well, I’m always looking for new friends. Though I gotta say, I <i>did<i> come here to drink,” Jaemin laughs, opening the beer like the pro he is. “Hope that isn’t a problem.”</i></i></p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Nope, I don’t care if other people do it. I just didn’t feel like it myself; not tonight, at least.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>They talk for a while longer, and Jaemin eventually learns that the boy’s name is Jeno. He’s sure he’ll forget that later, when he drowns his memories in booze, but for now he’s content to say it out loud just to see Jeno blush. Which he does. A lot. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>It’s kind of cute. Jeno in general is kind of cute, really. Well. Not kind of. He just is. He grins a lot as they talk and Jaemin gets more endeared with each passing minute, which is not why he came to this party. But he’s here anyway, talking about something stupid Donghyuck did when he was younger and watching Jeno laugh.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>They somehow get onto the topic of middle school (something Jaemin usually avoids talking about at every given opportunity) and Jeno says something that piques Jaemin’s interest just as he’s about to get up for another drink. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
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    <i>“You used to dance?” Jaemin asks. Jeno nods mildly. “Why’d you stop?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
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    <i>Jeno shrugs. “I got into basketball instead, I guess. I’m better at that, anyway, and I don’t have time for both.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>That makes sense, Jaemin supposes. Though he’d never choose basketball over dance. He’d never choose anything over dance, other than family and maybe watching Donghyuck sing. But everyone isn’t him, and Jeno has been out of dance for years and it seems to be suiting him just fine. Jaemin lets the topic drop. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Where’d you get this beer?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Jeno slouches slightly like he’s disappointed Jaemin is leaving, but he answers anyway and Jaemin heads off to the dining room to achieve his goal of drowning his stress in alcohol. Not the healthiest of coping mechanisms but hey, he’s still a kid and he has plenty of time to improve before he’s grown. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>It takes a bit to find it, but he eventually reaches the dining room. It’s louder than the kitchen was, probably because the table has been set up for beer pong and he can see a majority of the basketball team yelling anytime one of their teammates scores a point. Or loses a point. Or does anything at all really. Jocks are loud. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Jaemin slinks around the table to a cooler that only has a few bottles of beer left. He snatches two and escapes to the living room, plopping onto the nearest open seat, which happens to be the very edge of a couch. He’s squished and the same couple from the kitchen earlier is making out next to him, all sloppy and loud and disgusting, but Jaemin finds himself unwilling to move. His plan for tonight was to get shit-faced, and that is what he will do. But he doesn’t particularly want to do it in front of Jeno. Drunkenly embarrassing himself is normally reserved for friends, Donghyuck, and complete strangers, of which Jeno is none. So Jaemin stays put on the couch, trying and failing to drown out the wet smacking of lips and groans as the couple next to him gets increasingly handsy. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He people watches as he drinks- always a fun thing to do at parties. He sees Kunhang’s sister scolding people whenever they touch anything; the poor girl is always promptly ignored or cursed at. He sees the basketball team spill out of the dining room and disperse throughout the house. Mark Lee smiles at him on his way to the kitchen and Jaemin smiles back, remembering when he had the biggest crush on him. It was hard not to as a bright-eyed little freshman, when the nicest guy in his grade sat next to him in math class and seemed to know when he needed help without him even having to ask. But Jaemin grew out of his crush for Mark, as he does with all of his crushes. He’s never had one that lasted for longer than three months. He’s had a boyfriend or two, but those fare the same as his crushes. He bores of them eventually, and there’s no point in leading someone on so his longest relationship lasted exactly one month and four days. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He still remembers the look on Shotaro’s face as he broke up with him.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He feels bad about it, sometimes. But not very often. Shotaro is doing well, and Jaemin is happiest when he’s single. The most he needs is a fling, and he can get that whenever he wants. So he’s fine. He has dance and he has his family, and that’s all he needs. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Well, right about now he also needs another drink. He sets down the empty beer bottles next to the couch (he’s sure someone will pick it up eventually) and makes his way to the dining room. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Where he sees his brother passed out on top of the table. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“What the hell, Donghyuck,” Jaemin mutters as he lifts his brother. Donghyuck stirs as he’s slid off the table and Jaemin can hear someone huff a laugh behind him but he doesn’t bother to see who it is. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“‘M tired,” Donghyuck slurs, putting his full weight on Jaemin. The other boy stumbles as he tries to keep them upright. Footsteps signal someone has shuffled closer to them. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“An embarrassment is what you are,” Jaemin grumbles. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Maybe.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Jaemin narrows his eyes. “Definitely.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Someone appears in Jaemin’s peripheral. Jaemin turns his head to see it’s the boy from the kitchen. The boy - <i>what was his name?<i> - slings Donghyuck’s other arm across his shoulder, effectively taking some of the weight off Jaemin. He smiles crookedly when Jaemin thanks him. He could be put to use. </i></i></i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Hey-“ Jaemin is still blanking on the boy's name but is interrupted just in time for it not to sound awkward. Mark jogs over, car keys in hand. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“You ready to go, Jeno?”</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>The boy - <i>Jeno, that was his name<i> - looks over at Jaemin as if considering something. Jaemin is not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he jumps on the opportunity laid in front of him. </i></i></i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>“Actually, he’s going to drive me and Hyuckie home tonight,” Jaemin says, as sweetly as possible. He smiles at Jeno, who blushes so hard it looks like he’s just been painted pink. </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>“I- I am?”</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>“Yes, you are. Now, will you give me a hand getting this one to the car?” Jaemin hefts Donghyuck up higher, taking a step in the direction of the door. Jeno follows suit, smiling apologetically and shrugging at his friend the best he can while supporting a teenage boy on one arm. </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>“I’ll see you on Monday, Mark,” Jeno calls behind him on their way out the door. </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>“Yeah, okay,” comes the confused reply. Jaemin smiles. He does so love confusing jocks. Not that it’s hard to do most of the time, but still.</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>Mark especially has always been a bit socially dense, if he’s being honest. Jaemin thinks he makes up for it with his face and personality but some things just can’t be overlooked. Jeno, on the other hand; Jeno is a bit of an enigma to Jaemin. He’s only just met him, but he already knows him better than he knows most other basketball players. Jeno seems too nice for his own good, easy to manipulate. He is also incredibly attractive, looking more like a Greek statue than a high school junior, but Jaemin digresses. He can’t be thinking of how hot this boy is when he’s helping him drag his plastered brother to their car. </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>Donghyuck is always a pain in the ass, but he’s somehow worse when drunk. His body turns fluid and he sloshes all over the place, but he still somehow manages to elbow Jaemin in the stomach at least twice. Jaemin contemplates dropping him right then and there, but he supposes leaving his brother face down on the grass isn’t the wisest idea and continues heaving him to their car. On one step, a particularly indecent sound rumbles from Jeno’s throat into the air between them. Closer to a groan than anything else, really. Deep but somehow light at the same time. </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>Jaemin realizes he’s stilled when Jeno looks at him questioningly, a step ahead with Donghyuck half draped over his shoulder. He has really nice shoulders, too, Jaemin muses. But now isn’t the time to think of that, and so he takes the last few steps and dumps his brother into the backseat. </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>“Thanks,” he says, definitely not making his voice breathier than it needs to be. “I appreciate your help, Jeno.” </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>It has the effect he’s looking for, Jeno’s already flushed face turning a deeper shade of red. “Yeah,” he rumbles, not looking Jaemin in the eye. “Yeah, no problem.” </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>Jaemin tosses him the keys lazily and slides into the passenger seat. “Come on, then,” he says when Jeno hesitates. “I have things to do tomorrow and I do actually need sleep to look this good, believe it or not.”</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>Jeno smiles widely and it’s the prettiest thing Jaemin’s seen in a while. He grins back as Jeno starts the car. “This car is really nice,” he says airily as they glide down the road. It’s dark out by now and it’s getting a bit cold. Times like these are when Jaemin wishes he didn’t have an old Mustang convertible. Sure, he could pull the cover up, but that would dampen the aesthetic. And Jaemin is nothing if not devoted to his aesthetic. “It’s very pink.”</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
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        <i>
          <i>
            <i>“I like pink,” Jaemin explains unnecessarily. Everyone knows he likes pink, that’s why his hair is pink and so is his car. Most of his clothes are pink, as well. “So when my mom showed me this car, I had to have it. It was my birthday present last year.”</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>“You got a 1968 Mustang convertible for your 16th birthday?”</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>“Yes.” </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>They don’t say much after that. </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>Jaemin looks at Jeno’s profile from the corner of his eye. He can’t see much, the night sky darkening most details and blurring the rest. The occasional street light shines on his face for a few moments before disappearing again. It’s not much, but what Jaemin can see is a sight to behold. Is he Adonis or some shit? Who has that jawline in high school? His nose is strong, as well. How did he not notice this in the kitchen?</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>Jaemin turns his head slightly to get a better view of the god driving him home. Jeno seems to notice and smiles lightly but doesn’t say anything. The wind rushing in his ears, Jaemin examines Jeno’s face openly. His eyes, Jaemin thinks, are the highlight. They shine with something akin to the joy a puppy has when it greets its owner and scrunch up wonderfully when he smiles. His light brown hair flops slightly onto his brow bone, bristling a bit as they wind around a corner. </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>In short, Jeno is beautiful. </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>Jaemin turns back to look at the road ahead of them. They’ve pretty much passed all the lights they’re going to pass and the dark provides little comfort to his racing mind. How can a jock be not just attractive, but beautiful? How can he think like that? He, Na Jaemin, doesn’t think like that. The trees sway in the wind and the moon calls for his attention with how bright it shines, but he can’t stop thinking about how pretty the boy next to him is. </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>Pretty isn’t a strong enough word, but beautiful is something he usually reserves for himself. He’s already admitted it once, so he doesn’t think he needs to do it again. He’ll just have to find a synonym to use. Stronger than pretty, lighter than beautiful. </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>He’ll think on that one later. </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>For now, he just goes back to looking at Jeno. He’s surprised to find the boy already looking at him. “Shouldn’t your eyes be on the road,” he asks with a lilt to his voice. Jeno nods and directs his gaze in front of him. Jaemin doesn’t turn away, just takes the opportunity to observe Jeno while he has it. He knows he won’t get this again anytime soon, if at all. Plus, he’s a little drunk, so sue him if he wants to look at the cute boy next to him. </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>It’s a quiet moment when Jeno pulls the car over and smiles at him. He leans closer, eyes scrunched so much it’s a wonder that he can see at all. “What are you doing,” Jaemin whispers. He finds himself leaning closer as well.</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>Jeno doesn’t answer, just rests his hands against Jaemin’s jaw. They’re softer than they look, Jeno’s hands. Jaemin leans slightly into the touch. “Why’d we pull over?” His voice is still a whisper, barely audible over the sounds of nature surrounding them. Jeno’s ears flush and it’s cuter than it should be. </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>“Now I don’t have to look at the road,” he says softly. Jaemin would normally be put off by a line like that, but here he finds himself endeared. Had he had more drinks at the party than he remembers? Surely this can’t be his conscious mind betraying him. </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>Jeno smiles at him shyly and any thoughts that may have been in Jaemin’s mind vanish. He isn’t sure which one of them closes the small gap between them entirely, but now it’s closed and <i>wow, his lips are even softer than his hands.<i> The kiss isn’t much more than an innocent brush of lips, but Jaemin enjoys it more than any heated make-out session he’s ever experienced. Jeno pulls away too soon and grins again when Jaemin tries to follow him. </i></i></i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Jaemin thinks that smile might be the death of him. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“You never told me your address,” Jeno says as he starts the car again. His address? Why does he need that? </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“What do you need my address for?” </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Jeno looks at him quizzically, lips parting slightly. He’s about to answer when a terrible rumbling sound drifts from the backseat. They both flinch and Jaemin turns to look at his insolent, snoring brother. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Right. That’s why Jeno needs his address. He isn’t on a date with a charming boy right now- no, no, no. The charming boy is simply driving him and Donghyuck home after one of them had had too much ‘punch’. Jaemin groans, putting his head in his hands. Had he really just forgotten what he was doing because of a not-even-really-a kiss? What’s happening to him?</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>He mumbles his address through his hands and Jeno starts down the road again. Something occurs to him a few minutes of silence later. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“If you didn’t know my address, why’d you just drive around for half an hour?”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“I like driving.”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>That answer is not satisfactory, so Jaemin tells him as much. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Jeno chuckles before he continues. “I kinda figured you’d tell me where we were going when we started driving, but you never did. You just kept looking at me, so I just kept going.”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Jaemin scoffs. “I wasn’t looking at you the whole time.”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Jeno hums in agreement, not taking his eyes off the twisting road in front of them. “Not the whole time, no. But a lot of the time.”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“Whatever,” he mumbles pathetically. “How’d you know we wouldn’t get lost?”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“I’ve driven all the roads in this area enough to know them better than the back of my hand. I was heading out towards one of the rich neighborhoods almost out of town. When you said you got this car for your birthday, I just kinda assumed that’s where you guys live.”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Jaemin nods, not correcting him. He knows the neighborhoods Jeno is talking about, and his family lives not too far from there. “Not a bad guess.”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Jeno doesn’t respond, just grins at the road. The moon highlights his features perfectly, making his skin glow and hair turn into a halo on his head. Jaemin wants to card his hands through it. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>He doesn’t. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>They reach the house a few minutes later, and the hauling of Donghyuck begins again. This time it’s significantly worse because of the stairs leading to their door. They don’t bother going to the second floor once they get inside, instead dropping Donghyuck on one of the couches and calling it a night. Jaemin watches the brat snore, pushing his face further into the pillow. Somehow it doesn’t muffle the sound. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>He turns to see Jeno standing awkwardly in the entryway. He strides over to him, hopefully looking more confident than he feels. God, when was the last time he wasn’t confident? Jaemin really needs to get this kid out of here, he’s messing with his mind. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Jeno stiffens when Jaemin reaches him, eyes tracing the pattern in the wood flooring under his feet. Jaemin claps a hand on his shoulder and Jeno startles. “Thanks again for helping tonight,” he starts, smiling brightly. And he means it. He doesn’t know how he would’ve gotten Donghyuck home by himself. Luckily, now he’ll never have to know. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“No problem,” Jeno says, not returning his smile for the first time tonight. Jaemin’s own falters. “There’s just one thing-“</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>A loud snore from the couch interrupts him and Jaemin is tempted to smother his brother to death. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“Go on,” he says instead. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“I don’t have somewhere to sleep.”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Jaemin blinks. “What?”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“I drove you here, but I can’t drive back.” Jeno picks at his sleeve nervously. “And it’s too far to walk.” </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“Oh.”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“Yeah.”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Jaemin, as much as he hates that Jeno makes his confidence slip and his brain malfunction, can’t let him sleep in the cold. Or in his car, for that matter. He mulls over his options: Jeno could sleep on the loveseat and deal with Donghyuck’s insufferable snoring, or he could sleep in Jaemin’s room. With Jaemin. Alone. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>The loveseat will do. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>He hurries to gather a blanket and pillow while Jeno continues to loom in the entryway. Finally, he points at the loveseat. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“Sleep here,” he says, grabbing Jeno by the wrist and tugging him over to the seat. “It’s a bit cramped but it’s better than nothing.”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“Yeah,” Jeno laughs. It’s airy and makes something in Jaemin’s stomach stir. “Thank you.”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“No problem,” Jaemin echoes Jeno’s words from earlier, heading to the stairs. Jaemin’s eyes rake down Jeno’s body, taking in his skinny jeans and fitted turtleneck. As good as they look on him, they can’t be comfortable. “Are you good to sleep in that or should I grab you some pajamas?”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Jeno looks down at himself like he hadn’t known what he was wearing until Jaemin pointed it out. His mouth settles into a flat line and he makes a noise of discontent. “I don’t wanna be a bother, but...”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“No worries, I’ll be right down with some of my old pj’s.”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>On the way to his room, he passes the guest room and groans to himself. The television is blaring so loudly that he can hear it from the hallway. Must his cousin always be so loud? He cracks open the door, preparing to chew him out using Donghyuck as an excuse.</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“Yukhei,” he whisper-yells. Yukhei’s head snaps up from his phone. “If you’re not even watching the TV, why is it so loud? Some people are trying to sleep in this house, ya’ know.”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Yukhei smiles apologetically and lowers the volume. “Sorry, Nana.” </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“You should be,” Jaemin grumbles, but it holds no real malice. It’s hard to get mad at Yukhei for longer than a minute at a time. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“I’m glad you got home safe, I was just about to go get you guys.”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Jaemin hums in affirmation. He’d forgotten all about Yukhei a drink-or-so in. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to get Donghyuck home himself, after all. “Goodnight, Yukhei.”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“Night,” he hears as he closes the door. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>He loves Yukhei but he sincerely wishes he wasn’t visiting at the moment. If the guest room was open, Jeno wouldn’t be subjected to a sleeping Donghyuck and a stiff couch. But alas, Yukhei is here and he’s not going anywhere tonight. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>He reaches his room, immediately making a break for the dresser. When Jaemin told Jeno that he would get some old pajamas, he hadn’t taken into account that none of his pajamas are really appropriate to be seen by anyone other than family and close friends. Especially his older ones. He’s hit a growth spurt recently, making his already-short shorts even shorter. And Jeno is taller than him by a bit so he doesn’t even want to imagine what they’ll look like on him. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Or maybe he does. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>But that’s not important right now. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>He grabs a pair of shorts from the bottom of his drawer, debating whether or not he should hand them to Jeno and play innocent. This particular pair is silk and pink, of course. Jeno probably wouldn’t think anything of it. He is Na Jaemin, after all. What other pajamas would he have?</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>He digs through the drawer a bit more and finds no shorts longer than the silk ones. Well, he supposes these will have to do. He tucks them under his arm and finds an old baseball shirt Yukhei gave him years ago. It had drowned him then and still does now, always too big around the shoulders, so he figures it’ll fit Jeno like a glove. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>The boy himself is fiddling with his phone when Jaemin gets downstairs. He tosses the pajamas onto Jeno’s lap, waiting to see if he’ll react at all. His eyes widen just the tiniest bit when they land on the shorts but other than that he remains the same. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“Thanks,” he mumbles, and Jaemin wonders how many times they’ve said that to each other tonight. He points down the hall to the bathroom and takes a seat on his brother’s legs. No way in hell is he missing what Jeno looks like in his shorts and old baseball tee. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>The other boy emerges a moment later, tugging at the shorts and looking mildly surprised to see Jaemin still downstairs. “Oh,” he breathes. His hands clasp together in front of his thighs and a sheepish smile spreads across his face. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“Oh,” Jaemin echos. If he looked nice in his own clothes, Jeno looks damn near flawless in Jaemin’s. Or maybe he’s just biased. But whatever, Jeno looks amazing in shorts and a shirt that hugs his shoulders. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>The sheepish grin on Jeno’s face morphs into a smirk as he nears the couch. “Did you really not have anything else?”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“Nope, that was all I could find.” </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“Mhm.”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>They look at each other for a moment, and Jaemin might accidentally lick his lips. Jeno might narrow his eyes and stand a little taller as a result. Jaemin might then very obviously rake his own eyes down Jeno’s figure before standing abruptly. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“I have to go to uh- to bed.” Is he flustered? No, it can’t be. He’s <i>Na Fucking Jaemin.<i> Flustered isn’t in his vocabulary. </i></i></i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>Still, he’s pretty sure he stumbles on his way up the stairs and he’s pretty sure he hears Jeno giggle before he disappears from sight. </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>~~~</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>When Jaemin wakes up in the morning, he’s blissfully forgotten that there’s a living sculpture downstairs, so he goes down in nothing but baggy shorts. Horrendous, ratty, terrible old shorts. </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>It doesn’t hit him until he hears that telltale snore from the couch, then the past 12 hours comes rushing back to him. Jeno’s smile, rushing wind, that kiss. Soft hands, softer lips. Donghyuck’s cockblocking, godforsaken snore. He groans a little too loud. </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>What comes next Jaemin would like to forever block from his memory. </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>A snicker from the kitchen makes him whip around, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Jeno stands in his tiny shorts and baseball shirt, laughing at Jaemin. Laughing. <i>At Jaemin.<i></i></i></i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>No, this won’t do. </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>“Whatcha laughing at,” Jaemin says briskly, striding into the kitchen like he owns the place. Which, technically, he will someday. Jeno doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t keep laughing either, so Jaemin counts that as a win. “Do you want an apple or something?”</i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>Jaemin turns to the fridge, away from Jeno, and subtly flexes his shoulders and back. He knows he looks good, save for the ugly-as-sin shorts, and he’s never been afraid of flaunting that. He digs through the fridge a little more strenuously than necessary and grabs an apple, which he tosses over his shoulder. He then turns to watch Jeno gape at him more openly than he’d probably meant to before scrambling to catch the flying fruit. </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>He succeeds, miraculously, taking a bite out of the apple shortly after. “Thanks,” he mumbles through his mouthful. Jaemin smiles at him more genuinely than he means to. </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>”You’re welcome,” he replies, leaning casually on the counter and crossing his legs. Jeno’s eyes trail down to his thighs before snapping back to his face and Jaemin smirks. “I should probably wake up my idiot brother.” </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>“Yeah, probably.” </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>Neither one of them moves. </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>“Are you done with that yet?” Jaemin nods to the apple Jeno has taken a single bite out of, knowing full well that he’s not done with it. Jeno looks down at it. </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>“Maybe. Is there something better I could be doing with my time?”</i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>“Maybe.”</i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>They look at each other silently, neither one so much as blinking, then Jeno is suddenly much closer to Jaemin than he remembers. His hands are cold on Jaemin’s waist but his breath is hot on his cheek. The apple sits on the counter next to them, forgotten. </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>“How much can you lift,” Jaemin finds himself asking. Jeno grins at him, crouching slightly before Jaemin is being hoisted to the countertop. </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>“More than you.”</i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>Jeno snakes his way between Jaemin’s legs, hands finding their place on his waist again. Jaemin’s own take purchase crossed behind Jeno’s neck. They don’t kiss, just look at each other with their faces too close to really see anything, and Jaemin is disgusted with himself. This is almost domestic, he thinks, holding back a scoff. Why is he enjoying this?</i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>Jeno doesn’t seem to notice his inner turmoil, leaning down to press a small kiss to Jaemin’s jaw. Jaemin’s legs circle around Jeno’s hips, effectively trapping them together. Hell, he may as well enjoy it while it lasts, right?</i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>Jeno smiles at him and he decides, yes, he should just enjoy this. He’s suddenly very aware of his bare chest, which has flushed at this point, but neither one seems to care. Jeno is too busy kissing his way down Jaemin’s neck and Jaemin is too busy convincing himself that it’s okay to be disgustingly domestic with a boy he met last night. </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>Because really they’ve known each other for about 12 hours, about 9 of those spent sleeping. Jaemin tilts his head to the side and Jeno buries his face in his neck. That’s barely anything. Not even a full day, and here Jaemin is in his kitchen, shirtless, with Jeno pressed against him wearing <i>his<i> clothes. </i></i></i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>A little fast even for you, Jaemin.<i></i></i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>Jeno bites a particularly sensitive spot and he hisses quietly. Whatever. This is fine, he can deal with the consequences later. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>Or maybe not. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>Someone clears their throat and Jaemin’s blood runs cold. Jeno stills but doesn’t pull away immediately. When he does, Jaemin is able to see Donghyuck standing, bleary-eyed and hair mussed from a night on the couch, in the doorway to the kitchen hugging a pillow. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>“What the fuck,” he says weakly, then promptly shuffles back to the living room and plops on the couch. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>Jaemin groans, smacking himself lightly on the cheek. He’d been so absorbed in Jeno that he hadn’t even noticed that the snoring stopped. What is this boy doing to him?</i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>He pushes himself off the counter and pads past Jeno without saying anything. Donghyuck is taking up more of the couch than he normally does, probably out of spite, so he settles himself on the opposite end. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>“Hyuckie,” he begins, not looking at his brother. Donghyuck pointedly ignores that he had said anything at all. “Look, I’m sorry I did that while you were in here.”</i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>Donghyuck scrunches his nose, obviously not satisfied with the apology. Jaemin sighs. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>“I’ll buy you ice cream on Monday,” he bargains, waiting for his brother’s face to light up. It doesn’t, just slightly brightens. He sighs again, more long-suffering this time. “Fine. A week.” </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>“Apology accepted.” Donghyuck beams at him, grabbing the remote and turning the channel to some annoying variety show. “Now, go make me some hangover soup.”</i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>~~~</i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>The drive back to Jeno’s place is less awkward than Jaemin expected. The bar was on the floor, so that isn’t saying much, but still. Not as terrible as he was thinking it’d be. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>Mostly it’s just unbearably silent. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>They finally arrive at a small house a good distance away from Jaemin’s own, much bigger home. Jeno looks almost sheepish as he gets out of the car. Jaemin gets out as well since he needs to get to the driver’s seat and he refuses to climb over anything in his current outfit. Tight jeans and a nice shirt don’t lend themselves to maneuvering across seats, thank you very much. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>“Um,” Jeno starts; very eloquently, Jaemin might add. He smiles at the ground, avoiding Jaemin’s eyes. “Thanks for letting me drive.”</i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>“No problem, I hate driving,” Jaemin responds easily, because he really does hate it. His nice car might suggest otherwise, but Na Jaemin is not someone who enjoys being behind the wheel. As soon as Donghyuck gets his license, he best believe he’s gonna be the one driving them to school. One of Jeno’s eyebrows raises but Jaemin ignores it in favor of sidling closer to him. “So I’ll see you at school, I guess?”</i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>“...Yeah.”</i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>“Cool.” Jaemin sends Jeno his prettiest smile before turning back to his car. He doesn’t want to linger in the awkward atmosphere any longer than he has to. The domestic feeling from before Donghyuck interrupted them has long since passed and all that’s left now is a stilted air of reluctance on both of their parts. Jaemin can tell Jeno wants to say something as he slides into the driver’s seat so he politely waits until Jeno musters up the courage to speak. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>“Can I have your number?” </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>“Yes.”</i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>Jeno breathes a sigh of relief, or at least Jaemin assumes it’s relief, and grins in the general direction of the car. He still isn’t making eye contact but Jaemin doesn’t really blame him. This morning had been… weird. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>They exchange numbers and Jeno practically sprints inside, stopping just outside the door to wave at Jaemin like an excited little kid. Jaemin, against his better judgment and “stuck up pride”, as Donghyuck puts it, waves back. He’s rewarded with a bright smile and finally some eye contact. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>Swallowing his pride was well worth it, Jaemin decides as he drives home. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>And now that he’s gotten the stress out of his system, he can once again focus all his attention on dance. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>He’s going to crush Park Jisung in this stupid competition.</i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey, sorry it's taken me forever to update! I got a job recently and it's taken up more of my time than I thought it would. This chapter is a bit short because of that, but the next one should be longer. I've found that it's harder to write Jeno's POV for whatever reason. </p>
<p>Feel free to let me know if you have any tips or critiques, enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jeno prides himself on his composure. He doesn’t get distracted easily and his determination doesn’t waver when something stands in his way. It’s part of what makes him such a valuable asset to the basketball team.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But this is the third time he’s zoned out during today’s practice, and he’s sure the rest of the team wants to smother him to death.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t really blame them. He’s annoying himself with his dazedness, as well. But he just can’t seem to get a grip on his focus; it keeps sliding through his fingers like soap. The fourth time he gets hit with the ball because he isn’t paying attention, the coach orders him to sit on the sidelines and watch the drills. “Get it together, Jeno. I don’t know what’s bothering you, but you need to sort it out before you get hurt,” the coach barks. Jeno nods because he knows he’s right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jisung glances at him worriedly as he sulks his way to the bench, but Jeno doesn’t do anything to reassure him. He doesn’t know what he’d say, anyway. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s fine, Jisung, I’m just moping because I finally got my crush’s number and he still hasn’t texted me after three days. And oh, by the way, he’s also the one you’re competing against for the dance thing. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jeno scoffs to himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He definitely can’t tell Jisung. He doesn’t think he can tell anyone else either, unfortunately. YangYang would be exactly no help, Renjun would probably give him reasonable advice but then he’d tell the rest of their friends, and Mark has his own boy problems to deal with. Not to mention he’s essentially hopeless when it comes to romance; his crush on the boy from his French class is proof enough of that. For the past week or so, Mark has been coming to lunch with new stories of the boy that sits in front of him in French. He details just how “adorable” and “endearingly stubborn” this boy is, but anytime Mark mentions how he acts around the boy, he describes himself as awkward and stilted. Which he is most of the time, to be fair. But it is still glaringly obvious to their entire friend group that this boy likes Mark. Glaringly obvious to everyone except Mark, that is. He’s painfully oblivious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Jeno has no one to tell about his problem. Not that he needs to tell anyone, anyway. He knows perfectly well what he needs to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeno just needs to text Jaemin first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He does have his number, after all. But every time Jeno is about to message him, he chickens out. What if Jaemin doesn’t want to text him? He’d agreed easily enough to exchange phone numbers, but it’s been</span>
  <em>
    <span> three days.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Surely if he’d wanted to talk to Jeno he would’ve done it by now. Or maybe he’s just busy. He’s probably just busy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But there’s still a chance that he wants nothing to do with Jeno, and that chance is more than enough to keep him from messaging Jaemin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s fine. Jeno definitely doesn’t care that his longtime crush doesn’t care enough to reach out after they had a moment. A moment- is that what he’s calling that morning? He doesn’t know what else to call it. Whatever. He’s fine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or at least that’s what he tells people when they ask what’s wrong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing is up, Mark, I’m just tired,” Jeno waves off the other boy as they leave the locker room. Practice had ended with Jeno still on the bench and his friends still annoyed with him. Most of them, anyway. Jisung and Mark don’t seem mad; they just seem worried.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure, man? I haven’t seen you that distracted in a long time. Renjun almost knocked your teeth out with the ball,” Mark chuckles but it’s forced. He stops Jeno and the rest of the team files out of the gym, dodging them since they’re standing right in the doorway. Jeno tugs Mark off to the side. He doesn’t need to give the team more reasons to be pissed at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is everything really okay? You’ve been… off, since the party. During the party, even. You didn’t hang out with us the whole time, you just sat in the kitchen and then left with someone else.” Mark is frustratingly earnest and Jeno almost tells him right then. But then Mark’s eyes light up with a realization and Jeno’s stomach drops like lead. “Does it have something to do with the guy you left with? Jaemin, right? Did he do something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeno’s mouth is too dry. “No, he didn’t do anything.” And he didn’t. Anything that happened on Saturday (or Sunday morning) was initiated by Jeno. So technically he isn’t lying to Mark. He just isn’t telling him the whole truth. But whatever, it isn’t like he’s under oath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That doesn’t stop him from feeling bad about it, though.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mark looks at him for a moment longer and Jeno struggles to maintain eye contact. As much as people like to insinuate Mark is dumb or socially inept, he reads his friends exceptionally well. Mostly Jisung, but Mark can read Jeno easily when he tries, too. Finally, Mark turns back to the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever you say, man. If you ever need anything, you know I’m here.” And then he jogs out of the gym, calling for Renjun to wait up. Jeno sighs. He was sure Mark would pry it out of him. Either way, now one of his friends definitely knows something is up. Probably two, but he knows Jisung won’t confront him about it like Mark just had. If anything, Jisung will stew over it for a few days before baselessly concluding that it's somehow </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> fault. Jeno sighs again, running a hand through his hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He needs to tell him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeno grabs his phone out of his backpack, planning on calling Jisung. They have another dance practice tomorrow morning, but Jeno knows that if he’s going to tell him it’ll have to be today. Otherwise he’ll convince himself out of it, and that’s not ideal for either of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His phone screen beams up at him, a single text message covering one of his dog’s eyes on his lock screen. He almost ignores it, but as he’s about to unlock the phone the name of the sender jumps out at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Na Jaemin, the contact says. Jeno feels a smile spread over his face but it’s quickly replaced with a confused frown as he reads the message.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Help me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
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